Joseph Farina
Blood and Honour
He takes his breakfast continental
his cafe lungo in the morning
stretto in the afternoon
tries to read Italian papers
fancies himself cavalieri
in this age of dishonour
retells his nipoti how his
great nonno wore a red bandana
and marched with the liberator
until betrayed
small recollections of a fabled past
of hunger, hardship and family
that become bright scenes
like the brilliant ceramics
on his walls and tables
reminding him daily of
his ancient roots and the honour
of blood oaths unfulfilled.
Songs My Mother Sang Me
Staring at my fruitless fig
on the hot piazza’s faux cobbles
I begin to hum inexplicably scicarredu
the old Sicilian ode to a donkey
a song my mother sang
to both myself and brother
as she waited
in the long mornings and afternoons
until my father finished his foundry shift.
A mournful tune recalling an agrarian past
no longer hers to hold then
and I in its present dirge
without her voice, only my memory
of her memory to mourn
Food Not flowers
In the spring thawed ground
my father always planted foods
never daffodils or tulips.
The colour green,red and black
were the constant theme
green beans, rabba, zucchini, peppers
red tomatoes, San marzano and heirloom
black Sicilian melenzani
The colours of his Sicilian zappaturi past
red for the blood of his family
black for the mourning of departures
green for life to continue and grow
flowers were for songs
and the landed idle rich
whose tables were never bare
not for men with families to care.
Bio:
Joseph A Farina is a retired lawyer in Sarnia, Ontario, Canada. Several of his poems have been published in Quills Canadian Poetry Magazine, Ascent and in The Tower Poetry Magazine, Inscribed, The Windsor Review, Boxcar Poetry Revue, and appears in the anthology Sweet Lemons: Writings with a Sicilian Accent. He has had poems published in the U.S.A magazines Mobius, Pyramid Arts, Arabesques , Fiele-Festa and Memoir(and). He has had two books of poetry published — The Cancer Chronicles and The Ghosts of Water Street.